


Psalms of Winchester

by PaisleyHearts



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blood Kink, Canon-Typical Violence, Community: deancasbigbang, DCBB, DCBB 2015, Depression, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, could be considered attempted/successful suicide, mentions of torture too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-29 20:58:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5142239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaisleyHearts/pseuds/PaisleyHearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Picks up in the middle of 10x03. Dean isn’t cured of the Mark of Cain and Castiel decides to stay by his side, no matter what. The consequences of Castiel’s choices begin to reflect on the world and himself, but he holds onto the hope that there is a way to fix Dean. Hope, however, can turn out to be a deadly thing. Based on the original poem, <a href="http://hollystevc.tumblr.com/post/108417386718">eight</a>.<br/>[<a href="http://lucyannethropy.livejournal.com/31552.html">art masterpost</a>]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prelude;

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, I want to big a _HUGE_ thank you to [plinys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys) who probably got sick and tired of me ranting about this plot and crying over not being able to finish on time. You're the real mvp bro.  
>  Secondly, I want to thank the artist that took a look at this shitty summary and decided, "hey I'm gonna do art for this mess." Thanks a bunch, [Anne](http://carrionofmywaywardson.tumblr.com/tagged/lucyannethropy). You have been an absolute pleasure to work with and your art is amazing. I not only got the two required pieces for this fic, but an addition two more.  
> Thirdly, I'd like to say that I am extremely proud of myself. I have cried over this thing, have wanted to drop out on numerous times, and still, I went onward. And here we are. Thank you everyone who is reading.  
> On a side note, I do not promote nor condone anything that happens in this fic, illegal or morally ambiguous. While I am responsible for what these characters do, the themes was meant to remain as is throughout. I'm actually quite a vanilla person in real life. Without further adieu, here is Pslams of Winchester. Enjoy!

**prelude;**

 

_Every story has acts and parts told in moments that meant nothing then only to mean everything now. There's  
__no reason or rhyme except that there are tales of falling in and out of love_ _with every moment in between_  
_painted in the most beautiful picture. This is not one of those tales. This is the story of two not-so-souls that_  
_sort of fell in love as the fell into destruction. This is the story of two people who could have had the world_  
_but didn’t let themselves have it. This is the story of two boys who didn’t know how to be loved._  
_This is Dean and Castiel._


	2. I

**I.**

_darling, do you remember when we drank from styarofoam cups_  
_in borrowed rooms on this road we called home? do you_  
_remember the blood that used to drip down my palms as you_  
_screamed that it was all going to be okay? because we were two_  
_parts of a not so whole and there was no way we were going_  
_to let this all fall apart. not today or tomorrow or any day in_  
_between. do you remember when you didn't know how to pray?_

_-_

Castiel does the only thing he has the ability to do now and he just grabs onto Dean with all of his might. He soon finds that using conventional strength isn’t enough and has to tap into his angelic side. Something he hasn’t done with Dean since, well…

He can feel it, the mark. Thrumming loudly and hard, like a pressure all over Cas’ body as it yells at Dean that it needs more blood, now and from whomever. No matter how loud that thing is, Cas is loudly and he will not let the Mark get the better of Dean.

With both Sam and Cas struggling for power, they drag Dean down to the dungeon and make quick work of tying him down to the metal chair, binding him with metal chains that are meant to keep demons at bay. “What are you going to do with me boys?” Dean laughs, like he knows he knows he will get out of this unscathed.

It’s strange, Cas thinks, that he can feel Dean in that room, can even see a small speck of his soul deep inside of all the blackness, but this just isn’t him. Still, Cas is too attached to that human form and it makes him sad and angry – somehow at himself – to see what has become of the old Dean. Cas turns his gaze away from the monster that is smirking at him and decides to concentrate on the mark itself, hoping an idea will come to him.

“We’re going to cure you and you’re going to bring my brother back.” Sam is standing right behind him, sounding much more confident than Cas feels at the moment. He supposes it’s the best tactic, even though they have next to nothing to go on.

Dean, or what is left of him, laughs again. Cruel and too loud for the room they’re in. The sound grates on Cas’ nerves and he actually physically twitches, his hands clasping and unclasping to try and regain some control over his body again.

“Is that right, Sammy?” Cas can physically feel Sam’s intake of breath at that. “I’m pretty sure I’m Dean. What makes you think that Dean from two months ago is any different from me now? I’m free, baby brother. Let me enjoy it.” Dean’s eyes are still black and his smile shines there more than it does on his face.

Cas turns, unable to continue looking at Dean in the form that he is and catches the last second of Sam rubbing his face in frustration and exhaustion. It becomes evident then, to Cas, the weeks Sam has spent searching for his brother and it all culminating down to and dead end, in some way. Because they both tried to find Dean, but they didn’t really end up with that.

Still, they have to figure this out. And despite Castiel’s exhaustion, he can hold off much longer now that he has replenished grace. Slowly, as if trying not to frighten an injured animal, Cas brings up a hand to Sam’s shoulder. He looks up, not only the years of hunting evident in his eyes, but also in the curve on his hunched shoulders. “Sam, go rest. I will stay with him while you gain your strength.”

There’s a part of Sam that wants to fight back and say that there is no way that he will leave Cas alone with whatever Dean has become. But the look that Cas gives him tells him there’s no saying no to this. So Sam walks out of that dungeon, trying to mentally run through all the steps of the cure from the first time around.

Not until Sam is way out of earshot, does Cas turn around to speak. “Dean – ”

“Don’t alright. I know exactly what you wanna do man and it’s not gonna work, alright?”

Cas begins to clench and unclench his fists again, a slow breath leaving his lungs. This sounds like Dean, like the one he knows. Self-depreciating and never any faith. He almost smiles. Almost.

Instead, Cas walks up to Dean until they are an appropriate distance apart. If it weren’t for the fact that Dean is currently handcuffed to the chair with iron, they could be having a normal conversation. “By now, you will know what I am to say to that.”

It’s not until Dean’s eyes suddenly turn black again that Cas realizes they were green to begin with. No matter how much that makes him roar with anger and sadness inside, Castiel remains impassive. “Don’t bullshit me with all righteous man crap. This is who I am.” Dean is tense, like the words hurt to say.

Still, Cas holds their gazes as if nothing is differen.t Maybe it isn’t. Despite the fact that all the human aspects are practically burnt out of Dean, he still remembers what it was like to be human, all the feelings and emotions that came with it. Honestly, not much is different now, he just doesn’t have it in him to care about what he does. Guilt had always been his Achilles heel. With it gone, Dean would be able to rise to his full potential as a demon.

Cas won’t let it get to that. “You were never a monster. You still aren’t one.”

A bark of laughter escapes Dean’s lips, cold and sharp. “That’s exactly what I meant, asshole. Not that it matters – ” Dean turns away, a bit of color rising to his cheeks.

Cas bends over just a bit, bringing his hand to Dean’s shoulder. “I’m not here to convince you that my words are true. I want to let you know that it’s not too late to turn back. We have the means to cure you, Dean. It’s simple. But it will do no good if you don’t want to be human too.”

Dean tries to shrug off the hand that feels too heavy to him. “What’s with you and being human, huh? You couldn’t stick to it for more than a few months. Why should I even think about going back? I’m free man, don’t you see that? Things are easier this way. Better. Becoming a demon is the best thing that could have happened to me.” There’s something else lacing below Dean’s words and Cas is too scared to dig and find out what they are. Instead he tries to redirect the conversation.

Suddenly too tired to remain standing, Castiel sits down on the grimy floor at Dean’s feet. He doesn’t know what compels him to start telling the story nor what made him remember it, but he just goes with it. “Do you remember shortly before the end of the apocalypse? Sam had fallen ill and you took me out to the parking lot of the hotel and explained to me that it was something you and your bother did at times.” He waits for Dean to answer. Moments stretch and stretch, long and uncomfortable. Finally, when Cas thinks that Dean has forgotten the question, he nodes, a scowl on his face.

“What did you say to me then?”

Dean digs his nails into his palms, like his digging the answer out of himself. “I told you that free will was a fucking gift to be treasured.”

Cas lets that sink in for a while, letting the answer culminate in Dean’s brain before he continues. “And whose will are you doing now? It certainly isn’t your when you are still under the influence of the mark. Do you think that all these decisions you have made, thus far, are yours?

“Because they are not. Dean, humanity has always been the best of my father’s creation. Why are you so keen on trying to destroy it?”

He hadn’t noticed when Dean’s eyes had eased back to their normal green, but they snap back to black within a breath. “And what has your precious father done for me, exactly? After everything, all of the shit me and Sam have done, even you, we still get dealt all this shit! All of those dickwads you call siblings have told you already, God ain’t home. He just doesn’t care anymore!”

Whether this is the real Dean talking or not, Castiel is unsure. Still, the words hurt like a claw scratching at old wounds that are yet to heal. There’s shame making its way up his chest and the beginnings of tears that are prickling at the edges of his eyes. Instead of giving into all the emotion that is currently making itself known, Cas stands, trapping Dean’s face between both of his hands.

Dean struggles, but there isn’t much he can do in the position he’s in. “Dean Winchester, I will save you not matter what you say.” Something pulls deep inside of Cas’ gut. It’s old and warm, and making him almost lightheaded. It’s a feeling he’s had before, on occasion, but never really quite at this intensity. And instead of paying any mind to it, he pushes it way and stands up straight. “I will go get Sam so we can begin this.”

Cruel words follow behind Castiel as he leaves the dungeon and Dean, but he is too laser-focused on trying to leave to pay much attention to what they are. Cas turns down the hallway, intent on looking for Sam as soon as he can. He is reprised to find the older brother leaning against the wall, a few feet from the door to the dungeon.

“Sam-” Cas had not heard him come back. And it’s not like anything that he and Dean were talking about was some kind of secret or anything. A sick feeling of violation crawls over Cas’ body and it isn’t pleasant. Still, what Cas feels isn’t anywhere near the top of the current priority list, so Cas just puts his waves it off when he sees the guilty look cross Sam’s features. “Don’t worry about it.”

Sam clears his throat, still a little awkward at being found eavesdropping. “Since Dean doesn’t _want_ to be cured, what should we do?”

The last thing that the angel wants to do is force something onto Dean that he doesn’t want, but it’s starting to look like the only option is to just forget what Dean may or may not want. “We can go forward with your plan. I suppose you want to do the same cleansing that you were doing for the trials.”

Sam puts his hands in his pockets. A nervous tactic. “Yeah. At first I thought it might unofficially, officially end my trials as if I never stopped them, but I figure if I don’t say the spell at the end, everything should be alright.”

“It should be.” Neither of them voice the fact that this is all just speculation and that there is a great chance that Sam could end up dead and Dean still a demon if this isn’t done correctly. They’re Winchesters, however, their lives are all about games of chance. “What about Dean? Will he be more willing to participate the further you go?”

Sam shrugs. “Maybe. When I was doing it to Crowley, he didn’t start showing any signs of humanity until the fourth or fifth injection and he’s about the furthest thing from human as you can get. If we base it on that, maybe Dean will be more willing to participate earlier on.”

The angel nods, hope being the only real thing they have now. “Are you ready, then?”

“Almost. I still have to confess to purify my blood. Would you mind if I, uhm -” Sam scratches the back of his neck, suddenly more nervous, but about something else entirely. “Would you mind letting me confess to you?” The question is said more to the floor than anything.

Fondness for the man in front of him beings to flood over Castiel. “Of course.”

He lets Sam go check on Dean and to lock the doors up right before they take off to the other side of the bunker. Sam leads the both of them to a room that looks like a library only there is a slight rise at the end of the room. In the middle, there is a simple altar, empty. Except for a table cloth that was probably white at first, now yellow. Above that table, there is a cross hanging on the wall. “I wasn’t aware that the Men of Letters were religious people.”

“Maybe there were or they weren’t. It just feels easier to confess in here.” Sam looks at Cas like he knows he won’t understand. But he does. He understands that it’s easier to do his in a place that is meant to be holy and that being in something resembling a church might just give them that boost of mental energy they’ll need to get through this.

“Could you maybe sit or something. You’re making me nervous just standing there.”

Cas follows instructions and sits with his back to the wall. He expects Sam to follow suit. Instead, he begins to pace around the room, four long strides taking him from wall to wall. Maybe Cas hadn’t been wrong earlier when he had imagined Sam as an injured animal. Now, however, he’s acting like one who is caged and knows death is coming for him.

Finally, Sam picks a spot in the middle of the room and stands with his legs slightly spread apart. His arms cross over his chest and Sam faces downwards, closing his eyes. “Forgive me Father for I have sinned. Uhm, so confessing, right. I confess to not being able to let things go because I don’t want my brother to die. I confess to being a liar and not telling my brother what’s going on with me even though I know he’s worried. I confess to pushing people away, especially Dean, which is what led him to being like he is. Above all, I confess, just like last time, to not being enough. Because I am nothing compared to the person Dean wants me to be and I know that I can do better, I just don’t want to. So those are my sins.”

Cas ignores the couple of tears that track down Sam’s face. Instead, he says, “God the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of His Son, has reconciled the world to Himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins. Through the ministry of the Church, may God give you pardon and peace. I absolve you from your sins, in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.”

“Amen.”

“Sam, I hope you know that you don’t –” in a very Winchester like manner, Sam walks out of the room before he can hear what else Cas to say about him.

He takes a moment to collect himself before Cas makes his way back to the dungeon. By the time he gets there, Sam has reopened the doors and has prepared the tools they’ll need for the injections.

Sam holds a syringe in his hand, even from this distance, Cas can see Sam’s hand is shaking. He says nothing, however.

The needle disappears into Sam’s skin and the syringe begins to fill with his blood. “Oh Sammy, you don’t gotta bleed for little ol’ me.” Sam pays no mind to Dean as the blood continues to flow. Once done, the needle comes out of his arm and Sam walks up to his brother, avoiding eye contact until the last possible second.

“Dean, I know you’re in there and I know you can fight this.” With no more preamble, Sam sticks the needle directly into the jugular. Dean winces in pain, but does nothing more.

Sam drops the syringe into a bowl of what looks like to be alcohol on top of a table he had set up or himself and walks out. As he passes by Castiel at the doorway, he only stops for a second. “I’ll be back in an hour for the next dose.” With that, he’s gone, leaving nothing behind but Dean’s throbbing neck and Cas at a loss for what to say.

Cas can’t help but think that Sam might be upset because of him, even though he knows he really didn’t do anything except what was asked of him. It doesn’t matter now. Whatever Sam is dealing with is something he will have to do on his own. So Cas takes his place by the table, slowly cleaning the syringe. When he’s done with that, he just sits on the floor, back to the wall and stares at Dean.

Much of the next two hours go like this. Sam comes in, nothing saying anything, draws blood, injects, and walks out.

It’s not until after the third injection that Dean begins to talk. “Come on man, you’re gonna drive me crazy just sitting there. Is that what you’re gonna be like until the end of this? Because I’m willing to say yes to this whole humanity thing right now if you get that glare off of me right now.”

“Don’t treat this like a joke when it’s one of the worst things we have ever dealt with.”

Dean tenses and glares down at the angel, his jaw a hard angle. “What do you mean _we_? Last I checked, I’m the one with the mark, not you.”

It’s true. Many of the obstacles that were thrown into the Winchester’s life were exactly that, for the Winchesters. However, Castiel has never lost his need to care for the boys and even though their burdens were never his to carry, he felt like it was still part of his responsibility.

“There was a time when I believed that heaven knew what was best for everyone. I believed that there was a destiny to be fulfilled and no matter what you did, things would end up as they were supposed to.” Dean looks at him confused. “There was a time when one day of re-programming was all it took to have me on their side all over again.

“And then you happened.”

Dean laughs, self-depreciating as ever. “You don’t have to tell me what’s my fault, man. I know what Ester said. You were cursed from the moment you raised me from hell. You falling, that’s on me.”

Cas abruptly stands up, making his way up to Dean and looming down on him. “No, I don’t think you truly understand. You, Dean Winchester, are the best thing that has ever happened to me.” His heart is beating something frantic in his chest and he’s not sure what that means. “Have you ever thought about what it takes to make an angel go against heaven the way I did? You think just any ordinary person could have done that?

“Dean, I’ve been alive since before humans walked the earth. I know of almost every human that has ever existed. Out of the thousands among thousands of charges I have ever had, not one has ever shown me what you have. I told you then that I rebelled for you and it is the truth.”

Dean drops his gaze to the floor, emotions too strong for him to keep on staring down a hurricane in midst its fury. He doesn’t know what to say or how to respond, so Dean decides to remain silent. That, as it turns out, is the wrong thing to do.

Cas grabs onto the edges of the chair right above Dean’s shoulders. “Don’t you ever doubt that you are anything less than important –” There’s something else at the end of that sentence, hanging in the air that Cas can’t quite bring himself to say out loud and Dean is too scared to try and figure out what it is.

“Yea, well – your man crush on me isn’t going to want to make me be human. Whatever that was you tied to pull, not gonna work. Too much to deal with.” Dean says the last bit too quickly, as if it wasn’t supposed to be something he meant to say out loud.

Coincidentally, that is the moment that Sam comes in to deliver the next dose. There isn’t much to it. Just another syringe full of blood and put into Dean with much less complaint from him than before. Instead of staying behind, Cas follows Sam out of the dungeon after noticing how week he’s starting to become.

Once out of earshot from Dean, Cas puts a hand on Sam’s shoulder in order to get him to stop walking away. It works, but Sam doesn’t turn around. “Sam, are you sure you’ll be able to complete the ritual?” Sam’s shoulders sag under the weight of something invisible. He still refuses to turn around.

“I’m fine. I’m going to go take a nap before the next dose.”

“Sam-”

“I just want my brother back, alright?” Sam walks towards his room after that, not sparring Cas another moment. This is, yet, another thing that is broken between Sam and Cas. The terrible part is that Cas can’t find it in himself to care too much when they’re in the middle of trying to turn Dean back into human. It’s not that he doesn’t care for Sam, because he does, very much. It’s just not a priority right now.

Cas walks back to the bunker, his heart heavy for the younger brother and over himself, only to find that Dean is on the floor, still tied to the chair. “Dean!”

He’s there, in the flash of a second, fixing the chair up right. His hands float just above Dean’s skin all over, trying to asses if he was seriously hurt. “Are you alright?”

Dean grunts, grinding his teeth together, jaw drawn tight. “Fuck!” He throws his head back, screwing his eyes shut. “It hurts! Everything fucking hurts!”

Even if he had his original grace, Cas would not be able to do anything about that, more likely because the pain itself is a symptom of the ritual.

“Cas! I – make it stop!” It’s a whisper, pulled out from his throat with whatever strength he has left. Cas wants to just send all of the grace in him that is stolen to try and mend this, but that will only interfere with what Sam is trying to accomplish, and he’s sure Dean knows that too.

“Just accept that Sam and I are trying to help you. By accepting, this will be much easier on you.” Dean tries to laugh again, but it comes out staggered and groaned, like the impala trying its damndest to turn on, but can’t quite get there.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, angel?”

Something slips out of place inside of Cas. He’s not entirely sure what it is, but it brings him to stand right in front of Dean once again, all the power coursing through his brain and making him see red at the edges. “Why don’t you simply get over your self-hatred and make this easier for all of us? How little must you think of yourself that we can’t even cure you properly?”

Dean shakes his head, a smile playing at his lips. The pain is still evident on his face, but it must be ebbing away by now. “Oh Cassie, my boy. This isn’t about the old me anymore. I told you already,” his eyes flash black “I’m free! Ain’t gotta be worrying about what other me used to think about himself. It’s not like he was worth much.”

That thing inside of Castiel keeps on slipping and making his world turn upside down. He wants to tell this demon who isn’t Dean that the real Dean means so much to this world. That there was no way that he could have rebelled for anyone less than Dean Winchester, the Righteous Man chosen by God himself. Castiel wants to tell this demon that Dean is important to _him_ but none of that would get them anywhere. So Cas, sick and tired of being taunted, decided to go sit out in the hallway.

It’s not until Sam comes back again that Cas realizes that he’s been trying to calm himself for the good part of an hour. With one final deep breath, Cas follows the younger Winchester into the room, only catching the end of whatever Dean was saying.

“-keep doing this Sam? I just don’t see the point.” Sam pauses in his ministrations, his lips twitching as if he’s about to say something. His eyes start looking for something, anything around the room that will help him. He ends up sharing eye contact with Castiel for a moment before Sam builds up his walls back up, his face blanking out and his shoulders squaring. He finishes, leaving Dean and Cas alone once again.

“What don’t you see the point in, Dean?”

Dean refuses to meet Cas’ gaze, finding his boots highly interesting. “I did a lot of demon-type things. What’s the point in turning me back if I’m not going to be able to fix any of it?”

Cas’ fingers twitch, wanting to release Dean from the confines of the chair, but knowing that they are not quite done with the process yet. Instead, he balls his fists inside of his pockets. “Because this isn’t you. Simply as that.”  
“And what’s so great about me, anyways?”

Without even pausing to think for an answer, Castiel trudges on. “You were created exactly as you needed to be. I know that it was all for God’s plan for you, in the beginning. Despite all of that, you were created exactly as Dean Winchester was meant to be. I know our meeting was not ideal and our comradeship even less so, but I would have not done many of the things I did were you not the person I have come to befriend.

“When I had lost my memory, after all the Leviathan and then it was restored, I didn’t remember how you were the righteous man. I didn’t remember how you had saved the world or how you’ve saved more lives than you can count. I remembered about the first time you had called me your friend. At the time, I could not appreciate what that meant. Now, I have come to appreciate your friendship more than ever because you have defied everything that has ever been said about you.

“So I’m begging here, Dean. Do not succumb to this. Do not become what Metatron and Crowley think you are. Become that wonderful person I have grown to care for. Become that person who taught me to care for in the first place.”

Dean takes a deep breath. Another. And another. “Fine.”

“Fine what?”

Dean looks up, his eyes green as if everything were okay and normal. “Fine, I want to be healed. I’ll turn human again or whatever. Where’s Sam with the next dose?”

Castiel is speechless. This being the easiest and hardest thing he has ever done, he has no way to voice the happiness that is starting to bloom in the center of his chest, even with the entire world’s languages at his disposal. “You just had your last dose a few minutes ago. Sam can’t administer a new one for another hour. Would you like to talk to him instead? He’s just in his room.”

Dean shakes his head. “Don’t bother him. He needs his rest.”

Cas allows for the happiness inside of him continue to bloom without pause. This might be a small win on their part, but he will take it.

“Is Sam doing the same ritual from the trials when we were trying to close hell?”

“Yes, but he told me he won’t be doing the spell. He has no intention of trying to close hell tonight. This is just about curing you. While doing this will drain him, just like all the trials have, I will use what I have of this grace to cure him to the best of my ability. Sam will be alright. Nothing like before.”

Dean repeats. “Nothing like before.” as if the words coming out of Castiel’s mouth are the only things he has to hold on to.

There’s a few moments of silence before Cas speaks again. “Would you like some water?” Dean, unable to speak as it seems, only nods in affirmative. Cas leaves quickly, not quite sure why the pressure of the room began to weigh on him so.

In the kitchen, he opens the fridge. There isn’t very much in there. A few pieces of fruit, water bottles, and a full case of beer. Cas notices, that it’s not even the beer that Sam favors.

He grabs a couple of bottles and ignores the sinking feeling in his gut. It’s only a few seconds later when that sinking feeling turns into something else entirely. He’s rounding the corner when he hears it, his name said just on the edge of a scream followed by a very distinct thunk that sounds very much like a body hitting the floor.

Cas lets the bottles of water to drop from his hands in favor for heading straight to the dungeon as fast as he can. When he gets there, it’s to find Dean sitting in the chair as if nothing has happened. But Sam is laying on the floor, his lip bleeding and his cheek already sprouting a bruise from where Dean probably punched him.

Cas looks between Sam and Dean, unsure of what happened. And then he sees it, the handcuffs are no longer biding Dean down to the chair. He is sitting there because he’s choosing to.

“Did you get that water?”

“Dean, please –” He isn’t sure what he’s trying to say, but his hands are up as he takes slow step after slow step towards Dean. “We just have a couple more doses to go. We’re almost done. Don’t do this.”

Dean, still sitting in the chair, chuckles. “You think I’m going to let Sam die for me? That’s not happening! If you two are real keen on closing hell, you’re going to have to find some other schmuck to be your guinea pig.”

Of course, _of course_ Dean would assume that he was lying. And maybe he was. Because, knowing Sam, he probably would have tried closing hell even though he had said he wasn’t going to.

Cas takes a deep breath, for lack of something better to do. It brings in a flood of something, not quite bravery, into his system. “Dean, look at me.”

Dean stands up and listens, bringing them to be incredibly close, maybe a foot apart at best. “I’m lookin’.”

Tentatively, with fear still strumming through his veins, Castiel closes the distance even further and clasps Dean’s face between his hands, softly and gently, completely opposite of what his instincts are telling him to do. “Do you remember what I told you the night we first met? In the barn, with Bobby.” Dean only shakes his head, his eyes flickering between black and green.

“I told you that good things _do_ happen. That I knew you thought you didn’t deserve to be saved but I was going to do it anyways. All that still holds true. I will not give up on you, Dean. And all I ask is that you help me help you.”

Dean pulls away angrily. “I don’t want your help and I don’t need it.”

Dean throws a punch then, hitting Castiel square in the jaw. Cas’ arms rear up out of habit, preparing himself to through every move he has. But he remembers that this is Dean and that he cannot hurt him. He will not hurt him. “Dean.”

But he does not listen. His eyes are only black now, hitting and hurting and all Cas can do for himself is put his hands to shield his face. It’s hit after hit and it doesn’t take too long for him to end up on the ground and for Dean to move onto kicking him.

It’s a while before Dean even begins to stop. He’s straddling Cas’ waist, attacking his face when he notices that he’s trying to say something. It’s different from everything else, he’s been saying Dean’s name this entire time between _please_ and _stop this_. But this time, it’s something more. “Dean, do this for me.”

He pauses, fist bloody and in the air and thinks on those five words. It’s only a small pause, but that’s all he needs.

Dean delivers one final blow that knocks Castiel unconscious.


	3. II

**II.**

_there's a darkness at my feet and your absence encouraged me_  
_to pick it up and hold it close to my heart as if it were your soul_  
_all over again. i should have known that this was a metaphor_  
_or a euphemism. That's all we ever were really. almost somethings,_  
_floating at the edge of it all, waiting for that one last push. and it_  
_never came. it never came._

_-_

When the boys come to, it’s to practically nothing. Dean raided his room and took some things and took the impala. Other than that, nothing is different.

The beat takes a toll on both Castiel and Sam, but it doesn’t deter them from going after Dean the moment they are conscience. However, that feat proves to be much more difficult than anticipated. While Dean had left a trail that was fairly easy to follow the first time around, it was dead silence this time. No odd murders. No omens. Nothing.

He’s doing a good job of covering his tracks.

It’s a constant struggle of going through surveillance footage and traffic cams. It seems that Dean is even being careful enough not to get into any traffic jams seeing as there was nothing on the impala.

After eight weeks, Sam begins to lose hope. After four months, he gives up altogether.

Castiel, on the other hand, is very persistent.

Looking and scoring through everything he can get a hand on and scanning every one of Dean’s known aliases.

Before either of them really know it, half a year comes and goes with not even a peep from Dean. It is now that Cas begins to lose his grip.

As a last resort, he contact Charlie in hopes that she may be able to look in places he and Sam have not been able to.

She finds him in a week. Only, not really.

The two of them are in Rockport, some shitty motel at the edge of town, hunting a distant cousin of the loch ness monster. Cas’ phone blares with the heavy notes of _Back in Black_ , a ringtone Dean had set him up with as a joke a long time ago, and he never had the heart to change it.

He stares at the phone, the unfamiliar number flashing along with the time. _2:56AM_. Cas notes that he hasn’t been asleep for even half an hour before he answers. “Hello?” It’s punctuate by a yawn more than anything.

“Hey Ca – were you asleep?”

He doesn’t have it in him to mad at Charlie. Her voice is always calming to him, even now. “Mmm, yes. We’re hunting in Massachusetts.”

There’s a small intake of breath on the other side of the line. “Oh God, dude, I’m sorry! It’s like three over there right?”

Cas is rubbing at his eyes hoping that Charlie’s phone call doesn’t completely wake him so that he can be back asleep within the next few minutes. “I’m not too concerned with the time. What is the reason for your call?”

“Oh right okay.” There’s some shuffling, as if Charlie is rearranging papers. “I found him.”

Cas is wide awake in an instant. He turns to look at Sam in the other bed who is still fast asleep and debates whether to wake him up for this. Instead, Cas grabs a hoodie and the hotel key and walks outside. The three am wind bites into his exposed legs, but he is more intent on listening to what Charlie has to say.

“Where is he?” He doesn’t get an immediate response and can already tell by the pit in his stomach that this is not going to be the news that he had been hoping to receive.

“He – Dean wants to be left alone.”

“Charlie, you said you would help us track him down no matter what.”

“I know, okay? But he –” Castiel catches the hesitance in Charlie’s voice that has been there since the beginning of the conversation.

“What happened?”

“He found me.”

For split second, Cas imagines Charlie tied up to some chair, hidden away in some basement and Dean, wearing black eyes, holding a phone to her ear so that she can say her final goodbyes. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m completely safe and laying on my bed right now. Freaked me out a bit, but I’m good.”

He lets loose a heavy sigh. An uncomfortable silence falls between the two of them as Castiel waits for Charlie to elaborate on Dean’s visit.

“How come you didn’t tell me he’s full blown demon now?”

And there it is. For some reason, Cas thought that it was best to keep that away from her. He told her about the Mark of Cain and how it had made him a little crazy, but neglected to tell her about what the end result was. Probably trying to protect him, even if it’s just his reputation that he can keep safe.

“He’s not really a demon. It’s just the mark.”

“Castiel.” The name sounds weird and harsh coming from Charlie, weighed down by reprimand. “He’s definitely a demon. He made a pretty good show about it, black eyes and all.”

“Did he hurt you?” It’s not like he can do anything about that from where he is, but he feels obligated to ask anyways. Charlie is important to Sam and Dean. While he may not know her too much himself, she is becoming important to him as well.

“No, he didn’t. But he did make it clear that it would be _very_ easy for him to do so. He just showed up, nearly knocking my door down. And there he was. Honestly, it kind of freaked me out because I already knew what you told me but he was still kind of Dean, you know? So I invited him in.”

Castiel laughs bitterly. “Did you offer him beer too?”

“As a matter of fact, I did. We talked some, told me that he knew that you guys had been tracking him and then that he came to see me because he found out I was doing the same thing. He’s not happy about that part. Said that he couldn’t stop you and Sam from doing that but that he highly prefers I stop. Something about not wanting me to get in the middle of all of this where I could end up hurt.”

He can almost sense accusation underlying Charlie’s voice. “You have to know that I would never intentionally put you in danger. I just wanted you to try to track him down. I do not plan for you to physically go out and put yourself in place where there could be demons.”

“No, you’re fine! I’ve been doing everything from my room and covering my tracks. There’s like, zero danger involved. Still, Dean seemed pretty convinced that just trying to track him down would put me in some dark places. Then he did the eye thing and I might have flipped on him a little bit.”

“Charlie –”

“In retrospect, I get how that could have been super dangerous for me but it’s all good. I mostly just yelled at him for being dumb ass and he kept his cool. It wasn’t too bad. Then he just said that I needed to let you guys know to back off before he left. There’s not much else to the story.”

Castiel tucks the phone between his shoulder and his ear and wraps his arms around himself. “So that’s it? Dean went through all the trouble of showing up at your home to tell you and us to back off?”

Charlie laughs again, a little more cheerfully this time. “Oh man, you underestimate the power of this nerd. I mean, yeah, that’s all Dean came to do but I got more dirt on him now.

“While I may or may not have pick-pocketed him some time during the night and fished out some receipts. Receipts from a bar not too far from the bat cave.”

Cas narrows his eyes at no one in particular. “You mean the bunker?”

“Oh man, you need to go watch some television pronto. Yes, the bunker. It’s a place called Plains and I called, not really hoping for much. Talked to one of the bartenders passing as an FBI agent and gave Dean’s description, just fishing for details. The girl told me that she sees a guy, matching my description, at least once a week, usually Fridays. If the guy she’s talking about really is Dean, that would mean that he has been sticking around this whole time, right?”

Castiel’s heart flutters. This entire time that they had gone through so many resources, spells and the like, to find him, and Dean had been within a hand’s reach the entire time.

“Thank you Charlie.”

“No problem. Go back to sleep, Robin. And be careful. I know that Dean is still in there, but he’s also dark.”

“Goodnight.”

There’s a click on Charlie’s side before Castiel decides to tuck the phone into the pocket of the sweatshirt. He decides that the situation isn’t important enough to wake Sam up. So Cas drags himself into bed, without removing the hoodie.

He doesn’t sleep for the rest of the night.

*

It is three days later when the two men are dragging themselves into the bunker, still recovering from the beating of the loch ness monster. Still early enough to call it afternoon, but neither of them have any intention to try and do anything for the next couple of days.

Sam walks into the bunker, barely holding himself up on his feet with Castiel following close behind, not bothering with the bags for now. They can probably go get them in a couple of hours, after they’re all rested up.

The two of them are parting ways in the hallway when Castiel’s phone begins blaring as loudly as it had done a couple of nights ago. He pulls the thing out of his pocket and answers without much thought. “Hello?”

“Cas.” His voice is rough and sounds like he’s been gurgling glass for the past hour but there is no mistaking who is on the other end.

“Dean?” Sam stops and turns to face Castiel, eyes wide with surprise. For a moment he thinks that this could all be a joke, but he sees the rigid line of his friend’s shoulders and knows that Dean is truly on that phone. Sam crosses the distance between himself and Cas in three strides and has to hold himself back from yanking the phone out of the angel’s hand. Instead he makes some hand gestures to indicate that he wants Castiel to put Dean on speaker so that they can both hear.

“Yeah, it’s me. Um, you alone?”

Too quickly, Castiel responds. “Yes.”

Dean huffs slightly, amusement evident in his voice. “You have always been a terrible liar, man.” Cas looks up at Sam as if Dean were able to see through the phone and where he’s standing. Sam does not meet his eyes in favor at staring down at the phone, as if the few broken words coming through this small machine are all he’s able to focus on.

“We’ve been looking for you ever since you left.”

Silence. For so long that Castiel is scared that Dean actually hung up on him, but then he responds. “I know. I knew you would. You gotta stop, man. Especially getting others involved. Charlie? That wasn’t cool.”

“I don’t think it was cool that you went to threaten Charlie either, Dean. I guess we will both be dissatisfied with the other’s decisions.”

Sam finally snaps his head up to look at Cas. “Did you talk to Charlie and not tell me?”

There’s a laugh from the phone, loud and deep. Almost like Dean was completely normal and just checking in. “I think that makes you an honorary Winchester. Helping keep secrets.”

“Come back. We can fix this.” There it is, words that echo through the years and are meant to be a hook of some sort but only cause anger to bristle right below the surface.

“Castiel, it’s not broken.” A small pause. “I didn’t call to fight. I want to talk to you, tonight - alone. You know where to meet me if Charlie told you everything.” There’s a loud click and the call ends.

Cas leans his back against the wall and finds that he can’t stand much longer. He slumps to sit on the cold ground, face in his hands.

“Dude, you can’t just hide things from me, especially this. Charlie found him and she told you and then conveniently forgot to tell me?”

Cas can’t take this over the head ache that is beginning to form right behind his eyes. Or maybe he’s on the verge of tears, who knows anymore. “It wasn’t of import. None of the information Charlie gave me was going to help. Dean does not want to be found and he has made it exceptionally clear.” He drags his head up to look up at Sam who is looking at him as he should have all the answers. He can barely handle it.

“Yeah and now he wants to talk to you. Alone! What about that?”

He shrugs. “I suppose I should go meet him, see what it is that is so important that the two of us must be without you.” It’s meant to come out as just a fact, something that Dean said. But the last part of the sentence comes out as an accusation. As if, had Sam never been here to begin with, Dean would have never left.

It doesn’t go unnoticed, but Sam decides to ignore it in favor for pacing. “Are you insane!?” Cas brings his hands up to his face to rub at his temples. “I am quite aware of how this sounds. But maybe he really does want to talk. I don’t think he’s capable of injuring either of us.”

Sam stops right in front of Cas and crouches in order to be at the same level. “Do you remember last time? I’m not trying to be asshole about it, but Dean definitely hurt me _and_ you. You can’t just gloss over that fact.”

“What I mean is that I don’t think he will try to kill us. The only reason Dean did what he did before was because we were both in the way. I will speak with him and I will be careful.”

Sam sits and runs his hand across his face, trying to rub the frustration away. “Okay, so you go meet him alone but I’ll be outside, keeping an eye out.”

Castiel immediately shakes his head. “He will know you’re there. If he’s asking me to go alone, I will to show that I trust him. Maybe that’s what he needed this entire time. Just for one of us to show enough faith in him without binding him down to our plans.”

Sam bristles but says nothing more. After a minute or so of silence, he concedes by getting up. “If you really feel like that, then go ahead. I would feel better if you took some kind of protection with you, though”  
“Of course.” Sam says nothing more. Instead, he walks down to his room. Castiel is left by himself, still sitting on the floor. He doesn’t remember a time that he has felt more alone than in this moment. It’s been over three months since he willingly gave up the grace that was rotting inside of him and he is still trying to grapple with the emotions that run tumultuously inside of him. Even though he had spent a brief stint as a human, becoming human again has not been easier the second time around. Castiel doesn’t think he’ll ever be used to it.

Whatever he feels inside, does not matter. He gets up and makes his way back out to his car, which was parked outside of the bunker while he and Sam were hunting in Massachusetts. He quickly types in the name of the bar that Charlie had given him and pulls up the directions easily on his phone. He makes sure to grab one of the guns from Sam’s duffel. After making sure that the safety is one, he puts in his belt and covers it with his tshirt, the way he had seen Dean do a thousand times.

It takes him less than twenty minutes to get The Plains but nearly an hour for him to build up the nerve to get out of the car.

What if it is a trap mean to separate him and Sam? What if Dean drew him out and Sam is currently struggling for his life in the bunker with no one to aid him? It’s these thoughts that keep Castiel rooted to his seat, hands tight around the steering wheel. When he is finally able to take even breaths, he thinks it might be too late.

He reminds himself to have faith.

Castiel steps out of the car and into the bar, something small and odd. It’s between a women’s clothing shop and some store that seemed to have locked its doors years previously. From the outside, it doesn’t look too big. Probably the kind of bar where people only come for a couple of beers and then leave.

When he walks inside, three heads turn to look at him. One belongs to a woman at the bar, who is holding a glass in her hand and a dirty towel in the other. The other two are large, burly men, who seemed to have stopped their conversation to look at the newcomer. He tries not to pay any mind of the men as he sits on one of the dirty stools.

The woman approaches him, frown on her face as if she is not content with him. “What can I get you?”

Castiel wrings his hands out of sight of the bartender. “I will have your most popular beer, please.”

The woman arches her brow and the odd request but says nothing of it. She reaches below the bar to grab a bottle, opens it up, and hands it over to Cas. “So you new around here?”

Out of habit, Cas immediately drinks from the beer and is pleasantly surprised that it’s not as bitter as the ones that find their way into the refrigerator of the bunker. “I have lived here for some time, I just have never visited this bar. I am meeting a friend.”

The woman gives some kind of knowing nod. “Alright there, handsome. I’m Gina. If you need anything, just give me a holler.” Castiel smiles at Gina, grateful for the little hospitality she is showing, even if it _is_ her job.

Time passes excruciatingly slow. One beer turns to three, which then turns to seven. By then, he can start feeling his limbs becoming a little looser and the world spinning a little quicker. He makes Gina vow to not feed him anymore drinks until Dean shows up. She just frowns at him, briefly glancing at the clock on the opposite wall that tells her Castiel has been waiting for just over two hours for his friend.

And then he walks into the bar, in all his demonic glory. The other patrons of the bar turn to look at him the same they had turned to look at him, except there is an awe to everyone’s stare. Because Dean is something exceptional and there is an aura that is currently surrounding him, something none of them can really see. It’s just the way that he carries himself.

Everyone continues to stare at him until he sits down next to Castiel, which seems to be the cue for everyone to go back to their business. Dean holds up a finger to Gina and she immediately brings over a whiskey. She doesn’t say anything and what little friendliness had been in her while she was attending to Castiel is all gone.

“Can’t believe you actually showed up.”

Cas can’t find it in him to look at Dean now that he is less than two feet away. Instead, he stares intently at the wrapper of his latest beer. “You asked me to come. Here I am.”

Dean drinks all of his whiskey in one swing and signals for another. “I know man. I just thought you would have Sam waiting outside or something. But, you really came along. As if you trusted me or something.”

“Or something.”

Awkward silence falls between them and Cas can sense Gina sending him helpless looks, trying to asses if he will need help. “You seem to have a reputation here, Dean.”

Dean shrugs, as if it’s no big deal. But if Cas can sense fear, almost tangible, swirling through the patrons of the bar. That’s not something to shrug shoulders at. And maybe it’s the feeling of foreboding that causes him to make the decision to cut this meeting as short as possible. Maybe it’s because he can no longer deal with Dean’s games.

“Why did you want to meet me?”

Dean turns to look at him then, surprised by the sudden force behind Castiel’s voice. “What’s with the fifth degree? Can’t I just want to have a drink with a friend?”

“If this was just a drink, you would have gone about asking me here very differently. Dean, you want something from me. So ask.”

The ex-hunter turns his gaze back to the bar, suddenly bashful. “Going off on my own was a smart move. I don’t have to worry about putting you two in danger. And if I start going…” Dean makes a vague hand gesture towards his forearm, where the Mark is still alive and angry “I can just take it out on some monsters all day long without having to deal with judgment from you two.”

Something like jealously starts to boil at the bottom of Castiel’s stomach. Because Dean was able to find solace in solitude instead of his family, and it hurts a little but also makes him feel resentment towards the days in which Dean felt better on his own. Something that doesn’t really makes sense at all.

“If you just brought me here to tell me how much happier you are without us, I rather not have to hear it.” Castiel’s anger is easily picked up through his words and Dean makes an aborted movement to pat his shoulder. But that’s forbidden now. Too much time apart is between them creating boundaries that weren’t there before.

“That’s not – shit. You know I’m no good with words.” Castiel doesn’t say anything. Choosing to remain silent in favor of not saying anything more. On top of all of the emotions broiling inside of him, embarrassment is starting to make an appearance as a small blush over his cheeks. This whole time he had been worried sick about where Dean could probably be, how much he felt guilty about not doing more, it and turns out that he was just fine without him.

“I want you to come with me.” It’s barely a whisper and Castiel would think that he misheard had he not seen Dean’s lips move around the words.  
“I’m not familiar with how to use many of the phrases you use, but I believe this would be an appropriate time to ask, ‘what the fuck?’” If this were any other time, Dean would have laughed freely and without care, clutching at his sides until he had to stop to wipe the tears out of the corners of his eyes. But this isn’t any other time, it is now and the question still hangs in the air. “Oh, you’re serious.”

It’s strange to see Dean blushing away when the black aura still leaks from his pours out invisible and deadly.

“I miss having you around. And I thought, maybe, you might want to hang with me for a while. It wouldn’t be permanent and you can go back to the bunker or with Sam whenever you wanted. I just – it’s a little lonely out in the road by yourself.”

He doesn’t know what to say. Mostly, Castiel wants to say no because this all seems like a terrible idea. Probably the kind of thing that Sam would tell him to get out of before it gets bad.

“What about Sam?”

“He’s better without me. And plus, if I tag along with the two of you, you’re probably going to try to cure me in my sleep. That’s the thing I want you to remember. If you want to come along, there is no changing me. I’m staying like this, Cas.”  
Still, he wants to say no so badly because he should be working with Sam on how to lure Dean back into the bunker so that they can finish the trial that they started. But this small part, usually the same part that keeps him up at night with ridiculous questions and tells him that he should indulge in pork rinds all day, is telling him yes. That it won’t be for too long, like Dean said. Just a couple of weeks to be able to be with him, even if it’s not really Dean.

“Alright.” It feels like he’s sealing his fate, with just one simple word.

Dean smirks, like he knew what the answer was going to be, but the his hands give him away, relaxing and letting go of the edge of the bar that he had been holding with a white-knuckle grip. His hands come to rub his thighs for lack of anything to do with them.

“Okay then. Um, I’m at Motel 8 down the street, if you want to go over now.”

“I don’t think I’ll be drinking anymore tonight.”

The two men pay their bills and make their way out of the bar. As it turns out, the hotel is walking distance from The Plains, and so they both get into the continental and make it to the hotel in absolute silence. It would be comfortable were it not for the question that is obviously dancing on the tip of Dean’s tongue.

By the time they are inside of room 134, Castiel cannot handle it much longer. “What is it Dean?”

“What’s what?”

Cas glares, with all the fury of an angel. “You want to ask me something but you haven’t done so. What do you want to know?”

Dean sits on the bed and begins to unlace his shoes. That is when Castiel notices that the room only has one bed and Dean has not said anything about it. “What happened to your stolen mojo?”

Oh that.

“I had to give it up or die.”

Honestly, that grace meant little to him because one of his brothers had to die in order for him to receive it. He paid his price by having the grace eat away at him for so long. Eventually, though, he had to give it up.

“Did you just let it go?”

“I had no choice. Two months ago, it began infecting my body, showing itself as many diseases all at once. I tore it out of me and became human again.”

“Oh.” There’s not much more that Dean can say, so he continues with going through his night routine.

The air in the room is heavy, probably because Cas refuses to move from his spot right in front of the door and Dean is continuing like this is something they do all the time.

When Dean is down to his boxers, he gets under the blanket and raises an eyebrow at Castiel. That’s the only invitation that he needs. He removes his shoes and pants, opting to keep his tshirt on and not worrying about the actual sleeping clothes he has left in the car. He will worry about that later. When he lays in the bed opposite the hunter, Dean shuts off the only lamp in the room with a resounding click.

At that moment, Cas remembers that Sam is waiting at the bunker for him. So he types out a message, letting him know that he will be gone for a few days, probably a couple of weeks. There’s an immediate response, which he ignores.

The bed moves slightly and Cas knows that Dean has turned so that he can face him, but he cannot bring himself to say anything. Instead, he hopes for sleep to fill his mind quickly. Again, that weight from before returns, the one that tells him that Dean wants to say something but can’t quite find the words. Instead of pointing it out, he waits.

“Thanks, Cas.”

“It’s just for a few days.” He isn’t sure for who’s benefit he says that.

*

In the morning, Dean is the first to wake. Nothing in particular wakes him. Or it might just be that there is someone in his bed now. In the months that he was on his own he always slept alone. Anyone he brought back to his room was sent away before he could go to sleep.

But now, Castiel is there. It’s not even a sexual thing, just this deep appreciation for his friend who is willing to give up time for him. Dean shouldn’t be feeling sentimental, but Cas just stirs those kinds of feelings in him. It doesn’t matter though. He turns to get up and go to the bathroom and that’s when Dean notices that his and Cas’ hands managed to get intertwined in the middle of the night. Dean almost smiles at that.

Dean extracts his hand  and doesn’t notice how Cas slightly turns towards him when he finally gets off of the bed.

In the bathroom, he takes a quick piss and then moves to brush his teeth. It’s amazing what human things he has still kept part of his habit. He knows that, theoretically, as a demon, he shouldn’t have to sleep or eat or brush his teeth. But he likes doing those things. It’s not necessarily that he misses being human, more that he wants to set himself apart from all the actual demons that go about destroying the world for fun. He doesn’t do that. Dean Winchester, saves the world.

And yet, here he is, Castiel in his bed after asking him to come along with him just because he was lonely. The whole point of staying away from him and Sam was because he was trying to save them all the trouble that he is likely to cause. Because Dean always means trouble, demon or not. So why had he not fought harder to try and keep Cas away? Why had he stuck so close to the bunker after all those weeks?

The answer is there, of course. Dean just doesn’t want to try and explore it and nitpick the thing out amongst all the other bullshit that’s buried deep within himself.

Instead of trying to pick apart his psyche, Dean splashes some water on his face and walks back into the room to find that Cas is groggily rubbing his eyes. “Morning, sunshine.”

Cas, absolute grump that he is brings a pillow to his face to hide away from the morning light that is barely making it through the blinds. “What time is it?”

Dean takes a look at his phone and huffs a laugh. “Nearly nine in the morning. You act like it’s daybreak.”

“It might as well be.”

This, right here, Dean has never had with Cas. But he feels like it’s been there the whole time. They never had time to be like this because it was always one crisis or the other, but they had their moments, short. Probably just like this one will be. Dean hopes that Cas can be like this the entire time that Cas decides to stay with him.

“Get up and get ready. We need to head over to Montana because of vampires.”

“Ah, yes, vampires. My favorite.” Cas doesn’t pull his head from under the pillow.

*

It takes Castiel something like ten days to figure out that he is hopelessly in love with Dean Winchester. It vaguely shatters his world.

The two of them had just gotten done burning a wendigo in some forest in Michigan when Dean turned to look at him, carefree and smiling in a way he hadn’t seen since the brothel incident. And that’s when Cas knew that he was never going to leave Dean’s side. He was not going to go back to the bunker in three days time like he had promised Sam. He was not going to try and drag Dean back to do something he didn’t want to do. Because he simply loved him too much.

They were doing fine together. There was yet to be an incident in which Dean went too dark and there were barely any traces of the demon inside of Dean. So, Cas figures, as long as he can be there, he can watch out for Dean whenever those darker moments _do_ arise.

Back at the hotel, Castiel stops just inside of the door and reaches out to grab Dean’s hand. It’s innocent, barely a gesture, but it causes Dean to freeze like some monster is following close behind. “What are you doing?”

He turns around, doubt dancing in his eyes and Cas can’t seem to find it in himself to care about all the bad things anymore. Because, at the end of the day, he is here and so is Dean, together, just like he had promised him long ago. So he smiles, big and wide, unashamed. “Dean Winchester, you are beautiful.”

The hunter looks away, unsure of what to do with himself. Castiel pulls him close, and places his hands on Dean’s face, repeating the sentiment until the words  begin to lose meaning and it is just the two of them breathing.

Dean stands there, just a breath away from touching each other’s lips, smiling like fools. “You stupid son of a bitch.” Dean is kissing him then, and Cas swears there’s a _finally_ whispered into his mouth.

The kiss is terribly messy and needy. Perfect for them. At some point, Castiel is pinned against the wall, with nothing but cloth between his skin and Dean’s and it is marvelous. Exciting and terrifying all at once. With bruises blooming on his neck, Castiel figures that maybe he has always been in love with Dean, at least to some degree. And it wasn’t until he turned human and that all his angel-ness went away that he could finally extract and examine his feelings.

Good. He wouldn’t have wanted this, pants and moans and groans between them to have happened when he wasn’t on equal footing with Dean.

Before long, the two of them are on the bed, clothes scattered around the hotel room and Dean is working the both of them with one hand, groaning like a possessed animal against his cheek. Again, Cas grins, open and happy up at the ceiling. This is how it was meant to be. After all he went through with his family in heaven, after all the doubts he built up against his own existence, Castiel has found his place in the world. It is not leading an army in heaven or even looking over the humans on earth. It is here, beneath Dean, delving in basic carnal pleasure. This is how it’s supposed to be.

He comes first, shutting his eyes tight and a small gasp escaping his throat. Dean follows soon after, biting down with a ferocious kiss soon after.

Then they are done, nothing else.

 _It’s strange_ , Castiel thinks, _that sex can be so much and so little all at once._


	4. III

**III.**

_you are a stain on this earth, the most beautiful stain and i_  
_cannot find it within myself to rid the world of you. as long as_  
_you look at me like your next kill, as long as you look at me like_  
_this broken something of a man is still worth your time, i will_  
_never rid myself of you._

_-_

Things are different after the first time. Not bad, not terrible, maybe even good. Really, it’s in the little things. Like how Dean won’t be embarrassed if Cas reaches over to grab his hand in the middle of breakfast in a crappy diner. Or in the way Dean will smile, small and private, while they’re heading down some forgettable high way. It’s like all of these moments aren’t fleeting anymore.

They’re both allowed to enjoy each other’s company to the full extent and there is no foreboding feeling of _this might go away tomorrow_. It just is.

Things are just on the edge of perfect.

So perfect, in fact, that Cas is almost able to ignore the hundreds of missed calls, all labeled _Sam W._

*

The two of them are out one night, just drinking for the sake of drinking. There isn’t anything going on and the two of them are taking full advantage of it by taking the opportunity to get as drunk as possible just for fun. Dean is in the middle of telling the hilarious story of the first time he got drunk when Cas notices that they are both out of beer. He holds his hand up, indicating that he will be back soon.

Cas approaches the bar and asks for what he wants only to find that there is only one bartender and over a dozen people waiting to be served. Still, he waits patiently, knowing that the bartender will come to him when it is his turn. While he waits, a man approaches him. He’s quite taller than he is, probably about Sam’s height, and of large build. However, his voice is soft when he comes near Cas to whisper in his ear. “Haven’t seen you around here before.” The stench of liquor heavy in the man’s breath.

Castiel does not have a chance to answer before the man is knocked onto his ass, hands gingerly holding, what seems to be, a broken nose. He turns around to see Dean, eyes actually black and fist trembling. He pulls Dean out of there rather quickly, hoping Dean’s state didn’t cause more attention that just the nearby patrons.

The walk from the bar to the hotel a few blocks away is filled with Dean’s grumbling about how _no one is allowed to talk to you like that_ and _you can’t just let creeps come up to you like that_.

When they make it back, Dean pushes Castiel against the motel door, interchanging between heady kisses and hands running all over him, as if he were the one hurt. He’s is lucky, he thinks. So lucky to have found a protector within the person he is meant to protect himself. This is how they are, a constant circle of helping and aiding each other.

That is why, when Dean wants them to leave at six the next morning, Castiel does not say anything. He also does not say anything when he comes across a news article of a mysterious and brutal murder a day later.

*

A few days later, Cas is at a bar again with Dean, not doing too much drinking this time around. A man, quite young, proposes a game of pool to Cas for $20. By the looks of the man, late twenties and wearing clothes that are worn at the edges, he reminds Cas of Dean from long ago. Maybe that’s why he takes the young man on the game, knowing that he’ll probably end up losing.

It happens, and then the guy, Toby, tries to convince Cas to play another at $50. While twenty doesn’t mean much to him, fifty is the cost of one night at a hotel room and he isn’t quite as keen to give that up as easily. So he declines politely. Toby keeps badgering, calling him names and the like. That’s when Dean shows up, just as before, and puts a fist to Toby’s face quick as lightning and then drags Cas out of them.

They make love slow and sweet that night, Dean smiling into his thighs almost bashfully. He’s so spoiled with Dean’s reverence that he almost doesn’t pay attention when Dean leaves at one in the morning and comes back two hours later, covered in blood that isn’t his own.

They make a hasty retreat that day too.

Castiel cannot find it in him to really care, not when his charge is staying with him and staying safe. They still hunt. Although, the hunts themselves are becoming more sparse. All is well. Dean will always be okay and so will he.

Weeks go by like this, untracked in both of their minds. Air lazily filtering through the rolled down windows of the impala, freeing, so close to flying. Cas intertwines his fingers with Dean and he’ll blush a little bit without turning his gaze from the road. It’s perfect. So damn perfect.

And slowly, just like this, Cas forgets about all the calls and text messages from Sam. Until the younger brother shows up at their hotel room one night.

Sam’s thinner than he remembers, something dark and angry eating away at the edge of him like a terminal cancer. “Where is he, Cas?”

He doesn’t know what to do except to stand in the middle of the room, arms weak at his sides. “I don’t know.” And he should, he should know where Dean is. Except this is becoming more and more frequent. Before, it was _going for some take-out_ or _the impala needs gas_. Now it’s just _I’ll be back tonight_ with a silent promise of love and adoration hidden beneath his words.

“Cas, where’s my brother?”

“I – why does it matter? I told you I was not returning. I’m keeping him safe.”

Sam walks closer, slow and deliberate, like Cas is some deer in the middle of a clearing, unaware of the dangers of the world just beyond the line of trees. “Do have any idea what Dean has been doing? At all?”

Castiel’s hands are starting to tremble, fear rushing through his veins like poison.

“We’ve been hunting.”

Sam looks at him, riding on suspicion and four coffees. “Hunting?”

The former angel nods vigorously, trying to make Sam understand that it’s all fine. It’s all under control. “Yes. Wendigos, vampires, a few ghosts. We’ve been hunting. And I have been watching over him.”

Sam claps both hands onto Castiel’s fragile shoulders. “Maybe that’s what you’ve been doing with him but Dean has been doing a whole lot of other crap on his own. There’s a reason I was able to find you even though I wasn’t able to track either of your phones.

“Cas, there’s a trail of dead bodies stretching back from Oregon to Texas and to here. Tell me where he is!” The last part is said demanding and loud, hands squeezing a little too tight.

There are tears prickling at the corners of Castiel’s eyes. Still, he cannot tell Sam anything because he just doesn’t know.

“Sam, I don’t know. He said that he was getting the car an oil change.”

There’s a bark of laughter that nearly makes Cas jump. “It’s nine at night on a Sunday Cas, come on! Forget the time. When has Dean ever let anyone touch the inside of the car besides himself?”

He steps away from Sam, all of a sudden afraid of him. “Sam, you’ve got it wrong. Dean and I have been hunting. We make a good team and we’re  going to stay that way because he asked me to stay with him.”

Sam looks so sad, like his entire life is blinking away right in front of him. And maybe it is. His only brother part human and part something dark. Then his best friend, turned human and can’t get a hold of reality because he’s too in love to see what’s right in front of him. “If you really think Dean is completely innocent, tell me. Tell me right now and I will walk out of that door and never bother you again. But you gotta be one hundred percent sure. Is Dean killing or not?”

Deep down, Cas knows exactly what the answer is. He knows who has been behind all those mysterious murders and knows why Dean is in such a hurry to leave certain towns before the sun even rises. He knows all this but there is a bigger part of him, one that coincides with the love that thrums through him anytime that Dean is within touching distance, that says the Dean would tell him if he were doing something like that.

“See!? Cas, we can’t let this keep happening. It’s not like Dean is killing monsters anymore. He’s killing completely innocent people. People who have done nothing to deserve the things he has been doing.” Sam’s gestures widely, in a way he didn’t use to before. “I really don’t know what to do anymore.”  
Words tumble out of Castiel’s mouth before he fully registers what they mean. “You can’t kill him.”

Sam snaps back, surprised. “Do you think I _want_ to? But it doesn’t seem like we have any other options here.”

The air is thick with too many emotions from both of the men. Cas could allow Sam to kill Dean, effectively putting an end to whatever’s starting to happen. And he will forever be weighed down with the guilt of not being able to save Dean in every way possible. Or he could not let Sam kill Dean and this road can continue, death after death, with no stop in the distance.

But maybe, just maybe, Sam is righ. Putting Castiel’s emotions aside, it would be best for the world to go without Dean Winchester from here on out. “How do you propose we…end him?”

Sam takes a deep breath, straightening his back as he does so. “I can’t do it.”

Castiel steps back until the back of his knees hit the back of the only bed in the room. He falls hard into the mattress head bowing down. “Then how do you possibly expect me to do it? Dean and I, we –”

“I know.”

He looks at the hunter, confusion filling his face, because there is no possible way that Sam could have known. But that doesn’t matter. “Then if you know, you can understand why I can’t do it. What if I asked you to kill Jess?”

Sam steps back, a flash of anger rushing through him. “You have _no right_ to bring Jess into this, no matter how many years it’s been. You know as well as I that it is _not_ the same thing. Jessica wasn’t killing anyone. Dean is.”

Cas looks down at the floor, arms cross over his chest. “How then?”

Sam pulls out Ruby’s knife from inside of his jacket and hands it to Castiel. He doesn’t take it.

“Cas.”

“No, Sam!” Cas looks up sharply. “Do you just expect me to stab him the second he walks back into this room? I can’t do it Sam, I just can’t. You do it. Hadn’t he asked you to do it when he was still human?”

Sam sets the knife on the bed next to Castiel’s thigh. “Cas, he’s been leading me on for the last eight weeks, always skipping town just hours before I can get there. He knows I’m after him and he probably let you stay here knowing that I was just behind him. He doesn’t care about anyone but himself. Maybe he kind of cares about you, which is why he lets you stick around. But what happens if some other hunter is after him? Is he going to make sure you stay safe too? Or is he going to make sure he gets out of the line of fire first?” Sam pauses, all too aware of the weigh he is putting upon Castiel’s shoulders. “I know it might be too much. You’re going to have to use whatever connection you have with Dean to get him close enough for you to use the knife. At this point, I’m sure he’s demon enough that it will – the knife will do the job no matter where it goes.”

Cas wraps his arms around himself, trying to stop his shaking, but nods anyways. “Fine. I’ll let you know. If I’m not able to contact you, can we just agree you’ll be back after midnight?”

“After midnight.” With those words, Sam gets up to leave the room. He stops at the door, unsure if he should say anything more. Seeing Castiel, arms still wrapped around himself, he doesn’t think there is anything else he can do to make him feel any better.

*

By the time that Dean comes back into the motel room, the knife is hidden safely between the mattress and the box spring, handle barely peeking out but covered with the blankets. In the couple of hours since Sam left, Cas made a half assed plan in his head of what he would do. One quick trip to a raunchy looking store a few blocks away is all it took.

Now, Dean walks in, blood covering his arms from hands to elbows, smile huge on his face. That smile falters when he takes stock of the sight before him.

Cas is laying in the middle of the bed, legs spread wide. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of black satin panties, way too small to completely cover his cock, which is already erect. His eyes are closed as he runs his hands all over his chest, occasionally pausing to rub at a nipple. Dean just looks and drinks the whole scene in, unsure if he should just let Cas keep going at it or if he should jump into the action.

Dean’s decision is made for him when Cas snaps his eyes open and reaches between his legs, palm slowly working over the material, and “Dean” escaping from those lips, low and guttural. Dean drops the knife and keys on the floor and launches himself at Castiel, blood still staining his skin. Cas is expecting this, already knowing how rough he usually is when it comes to the two of them having sex.

Cas’ mouth is ravaged, all teeth and tongue, and he loves it. The way Dean can claim him the way no other person can. The way no other person is allowed to. Dean isn’t even worried about trying to get the clothes off of himself, too preoccupied with filling in the spaces where Cas’ hands used to be. Cas pays little mind to the blood that is starting to cover his own body, adding that horrid metallic smell to the air. It will only get worse, soon.

“Is this what you do while I’m gone? You just touch yourself, waiting for me?”

He tries to say something, but his answer is turned into a groan as Dean brings his hand down to his cock, now leaking into the black satin. Still, Dean does no more than lightly tracing the outline of the bulge with two fingers, toying with him. “And you got these, just for me. Did you just pick them out? Or were you brave enough to go into the changing rooms? How pretty you are Castiel, so so pretty for me.”

Dean’s voice is doing wonders for Castiel. He has never been as talkative as he is tonight. Cas has never had a reason to complain about the sex they were having. However, he thinks he should have gone out to get a women’s underwear a long time ago.

“Just for you, Dean. Only for you.”

The hunter above him laughs darkly, pupils blown. “Yes you are.”

Cas isn’t sure what exactly it is, maybe the tone of Dean’s voice or how he lingers above him, a touch too feral, but he doesn’t want to do this anymore. They’ve done this so many times. It isn’t new. Even now his body wants to keep going, have those hands run all over him. But Cas doesn’t want to continue knowing what will come at the end of this. And maybe there is still time to let it all go. To tell Dean the truth and just brush it off and Sam will be no more than a figure in their rearview mirror within a few minutes.

Dean buries his face in the crook of Cas’ neck, latching on and leaving his mark quickly. “Why are you so distracted?” He says as his fingers start to pull at the panties to move them out of the way.

_Get off._

_Keep going._

_Sam wants you dead._

_Don’t stop._

_Please let me go._

 

The litany of confusing demands are all shut out the moment Dean’s fingers begin to brush his hole. Castiel groans, but his sounds are swallowed by the man above him. He’s being claimed all over again and nothing inside of him is fighting against it any longer. He can’t even think about the task at hand. Only knows that this is what he was made for. To be consumed by the Righteous Man and to be the vessel for all that outpouring power.

“Lube. Get the lube.” The ex-angel can barely speak, too busy letting himself fall into the physical pleasure of it all, separating himself from the rest of it all.

Dean gets off the bed, quickly stripping himself of all of his clothes and then produces the half-used bottle from the night stand drawer. He generously coats his fingers.

He moves a little too quickly, adding a second and third finger when Castiel isn’t quite ready for the next stretch. But Cas doesn’t care.

Instead, he welcomes the pain. Revels in it.

It’s not long before Dean makes him get on his knees, face pressed into the pillow and pushes in all the way, despite the resistance. Cas shivers, loving the burn and how he will still be able to feel this in the morning. He doesn’t even care what Dean is starting to say to him, the endearments that are never said in any other situation, flying over him.

“Fuck, baby. Just like that.”

“You’re so tight tonight. Just for me. Just for me.”

While Cas would usually be the more talkative of the two, he’s just letting it all happen now. Slowly, the stings starts to lessen and the reality of what he needs to do starts to sink into him. He could do it now, reach for the knife and wait for right when Dean is about to cum before he lunges.

Dean, however, takes him by surprise. He flips Cas over again, laying him on his back and hooking one of Cas’ legs high on his hip. The pleasure is intensified further and he white-knuckle grips the sheets to keep from shouting in pleasure. Over and over again, Dean hits that one spot that makes him see sparks and he can’t tear himself away from the almost black eyes staring down at him.

Dean leans to the side, just a tad and pulls out something from the side of the bed. He comes out bearing Ruby’s knife, a smirk dancing on his face.

For a moment, Castiel freezes. Is Dean about to kill him the way he had planned to?

Dean lowers himself slowly thrusting in and out of Castiel. Dean brings the knife down onto his chest, right above his heart and pushes. It stings and burns in a way that Dean’s fingers didn’t. But if feels so, so good too. Cas doesn’t want to show how much he likes it, wants to keep this bit of him a secret from the one causing all of the pain.

However, when Dean bends down to lick off the small droplets of blood, Castiel moans, loud and throaty.

“Did you really think,” Dean starts a second gash, at Cas’ sternum this time, “that I wouldn’t know?”

Castiel has no way to answer, only moan and writhe as Dean continues in his sexual torture.

At the end of the third gash, Dean bites down on a nipple and Cas cums, hot onto his stomach. Still, Dean continues.

By the fifth, his cock is beginning to harden again, ready for another round. Still, Cas moans, the energy draining out of him.

Right before Dean makes his twelfth cut, he grabs a fist-full of Cas’ hair and yanks back, exposing the angel’s neck. He brings the knife up and traces it over his bobbing adam’s apple. Gently, oh so gently, he pushes and draws a line. Maybe a little deeper than the others, for Cas’ actually hisses at the pain.

Still, though, he holds his head up and begins to suck the blood away, almost like a vampire.

_Yes. Yes. Yes_. Dean more feels than hears the words pouring out of Cas and he finally comes deep inside of the man below him.

The two of them hold still for several moments, trying to catch their breaths. Then, Dean lifts his face, bringing it just a few inches above Cas’. The hand that was once tugging at his hair comes down to softly rest on his cheek. “That’s my good angel. Always so good to me.”

Then he rolls off, heading straight for the bathroom.

Castiel lays there, feeling much the same way he did the first time he and Dean had sex. Except, this time he knows that this is how it will be. He will forever be tied to Dean Winchester and, no matter what Sam or anyone has to say about it, he will not be able to get rid of Dean.


	5. IV

**IV.**

_breathing is so much harder when you leave me here,_   
_abandoned and forgotten, your comfort toy to play with when you_   
_get bored or lonely or both. this heart beats angry and sluggish_   
_against this graveyard cage of mine._

-

And so that is how they are. Just two souls lost in the wind leaving havoc in their wake. But Cas does not care and Dean is as happy is he allows himself to be; despite the fires that rise up behind them.

It’s a day that doesn’t matter, probably a Tuesday afternoon when the two of them are heading North into the mid-west. There’s nothing remarkable about where they were the day before and neither of them really know where their next destination is. The windows are rolled down and it’s a tad on the warm side. Still, Cas lets his fingers dance in the wind that is whipping at over seventy miles an hour. Some type of rock is playing on the radio of the old radio. Maybe Zeppelin or AC/DC.

Cas is free and content in this moment, nothing tying him down to a cause. All that is left to his world, no matter how sad it might seem on the surface, is Dean Winchester. Speaking of the man in question, Dean has one hand resting in the space that separates him. Cas reaches over, something he has done a thousand times, and places his hand over Dean’s.

Dean, however, pulls his hand away and puts it on the wheel. He’s driving with two hands, something he only does when he’s tense.

Castiel ignores it, not wanting to make a big deal of it.

It’s just one small detail

*

It’s another irrelevant evening, a rare one where the two of them just sit on the hotel bed and watch trashy tv that’s available on the cheap cable. There’s a half eaten pizza and a few empty beer bottles littering the floor. Cas is tipsy, a little loose and there’s a heavy weight low in his belly. The kind that’s a little pleasant while being weirdly annoying. He knows what he needs and he definitely knows what he wants.

He leans over to lay his head on Dean’s shoulder. The hunter stiffens, but makes no other acknowledgement of the action. Cas knows it usually takes more than this for Dean to realize what his intentions are and doesn’t expect this time to be any different. Still, he remains there, with his head resting there, taking in the warmth that is seeping into his cheek.

The heat builds inside of Castiel and he isn’t much for waiting anymore. He pulls the beer that is sitting between Dean’s legs and sets it on the bedside table. Cas then straddles Dean’s lap, grabbing his face between his hands.

This used to make Dean smile with something dark coloring his eyes. It was something playful Cas would do, despite the life they were living.

Now Dean frowns at him and pulls away from the hands that entrap him. “Not in the mood.” To make his point, Dean pushes at Cas until he’s sitting back on the bed.

It’s obvious but Cas doesn’t care right now. He immediately gets up and locks himself in the bathroom. He grips the sides of the sink and tries to breathe evenly. It’s not exactly the rejection that makes the knot in his throat grow thicker by the second, nor is it the fact that Dean didn’t want to sleep with him. That push, there was something in that push.

Because Cas understands. Sometimes Dean doesn’t want to have sex just because he doesn’t want to. So he’ll peck Cas lightly or smile at him and tell him “Maybe later.” That push was something else that Cas really doesn’t want to think on for too long.

*

They’re heading up 75, generally heading in the general direction of Michigan. The sun is low in the horizon and they probably won’t stop for several more hours to sleep for the night, if Dean decides to stop at all. “What if we get ourselves a house?”

Cas doesn’t turn away from the window, not much caring for what Dean has to say when they’ve been on the road for the last 16 hours. They could get a shack as long as it meant a horizontal mattress.

“Listen, man.”

Cas slightly moves his head to make sure that Dean knows he’s acknowledging him. “Yes, Dean.” From this angle, he can see most of Dean’s profile and it’s surreal. He hasn’t seen him like this in so long. One hundred percent Dean with just the pavement beneath the wheels.

A small smile makes its way onto Castiel’s face, now slightly intrigued in what Dean has to say if it turns him into what he used to be before.

“I like driving, you know that. Maybe we should find a place where we can just sit for a while. Kind of like a hideout or somewhere we can go back to no matter where we go, you know?”

_The bunker_ , Cas wants to say. _The bunker is exactly that._ Of course he doesn’t say it out loud, just slightly hums as his response.

Dean takes it at a yes, Cas supposes. If he’s being truthful with himself, he is getting tired of being out on the road all the time, never staying anywhere for more than a couple of days before they have to go out on the road again.

*

It doesn’t take too long to find something and Castiel suspects that maybe Dean had been thinking about doing this for a long time because they drive directly to the thing that Dean is calling the hideout.

They’re just inside of Michigan, near the lake where the houses are a little more spread out and hidden by forest. It’s a small brown thing, run down from, what looks like, abandonment. The shutters are barely hanging on, weeds are running up all sides of the house, and Cas isn’t even sure the roof is completely there. But Dean loves it and he’s getting out of the car with a huge smile on his face, so Cas plasters one on himself and makes himself believe that this is their dream home.

And maybe it could have been. Maybe, in another life, where Dean had let him and Sam remove the mark, in a life where maybe Cas had never been an angel to begin with, they could have met and been happy and moved to Michigan and found this run down old thing and decided to fix it up because that’s what they do; they fix everything because it deserves to be fixed. At least, they used to.

He doesn’t dwell on that too long as Dean leads him through the house, finding the various rooms. The living room that directly extends to the kitchen. A small hallway with three doors. Two of them are bedrooms and one leads to a basement. The tour is short and brief, because there is not much to see of the rotting walls. So Dean leaves, saying he’s going to look for some stuff to make the place look more homey.

Cas stays, lingering in the living room. The shutters might be falling off on this side of the house, but at least they aren’t stuck together. So the light filters in through the yellowed-windows, highlighting the incredible amount of dust and grime that has built up over who-knows how many years. Cas wants to clean, wants to walk down to the convenient store a mile or so down the road, and pick up some cleaning materials. Maybe paper towels and all purpose cleaner just to get started.

He doesn’t, though. He just stands there, not enough energy in him to even drag his hand over the window sill or to pull out the loose nails in the wall. Instead, he just stares at the walls and solemnly things _This is supposed to be my new home_.

*

When Dean comes back, it’s with a flimsy full mattress strapped to the roof of the impala. At the sight of _Baby_ being tied down with ropes actually makes Cas laugh, full and loud. It’s contagious, it seems, when Dean cracks a smile when he climbs out of the car.

The two of them bring the mattress into the living room, deeming the other rooms unlivable for the time being. Along with the mattress, Dean had bought a variety of cleaning supplies, which Cas is thankful for.

He quickly cleans up a small area in the living room where he intends to lay down the mattress, since they will be only a few inches over the ground. Right as he puts the two pillows in their pillow cases, Dean walks in with a bag of greasy food. Again, Cas smiles without thought.

It’s moments like this where he allows himself to forget about everything else and just enjoys the things as they are. He’s content in these moments. Nearly happy.

The two of them make love that night, Cas thinks. He mostly lays there and tries to enjoy what he has. He’s full and maybe glad and the man he loves wants him in every way that he should be wanted. So he smiles and kisses and puts his hands right where they are supposed to be and makes the sounds he’s supposed to make.

He cums with tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. Not that he’s terribly emotional at the time or because anything hurts. He just forced himself so much into this orgasm that the relief of it being over show itself in tears. Dean cums soon after, Cas name on the edge of his sigh.

So they make love, Cas thinks, because he doesn’t want to imagine what they’ve become.

*

The next day, Cas wakes up with breakfast already sitting next to his head, on the floor. He only takes a bite out of the bagel and grabs the coffee, walking outside to sit in the almost patio that exists.

He isn’t really sure what time it is, having purposely lost his phone shortly after running into Sam. He relies on Dean’s phone. Since Dean isn’t there, Cas just sits outside and stares out to the horizon, absorbing in all the details of the area around them. He’s in the middle of trying to figure out what kind of trees are out in the distance when Dean pulls up, looking mildly angry. Not that it’s any different from his usual demeanor. He passes by Castiel, no comment necessary. Just a glare thrown down at him.

He can hear Dean inside grunting and moving stuff around but Cas doesn’t bother to pick himself up or do anything about it, just sits and continues to look into the distance, sipping on his now cold coffee.

It’s maybe an hour or so later when Dean comes back out, scowl completely gone from his face. He invites Cas to stand up by outstretching his hand. Castiel takes the hand gingerly and stands up, leaving his unfinished coffee behind. Neither of them say anything until they both venture into the basement.

Cas cocks his head to the side when he finds that a small area has been cleaned away and the bed is now there. “Why are we sleeping in the basement now?”

Dean rubs a hand over the back of his neck as if he’s nervous. “I-uh. We’re not. You’re sleeping down here. Without me.”

Cas glares at Dean, prompting him to explain. “I had a run in earlier with some people we know. They’ve been following us for some time and I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to worry you. And it’s not really you’re fault, but they’re tracking me through you. So I’m thinking you should lay low for a while.” Dean makes a grand gesture at the bed, as if it’s supposed to be the best offering he could present to Castiel.

The sad thing is, that it kind of is a grand gesture. Along with the bed and the fact that Dean cleaned up some of the grime in the basement, there are a handful of books sitting on the ground. In a way, this is the best Dean could do for him.

“It’s just that if someone comes a knocking in here, it’ll be harder to find you. It’ll just be for a few days, while they lose your scent. Then we’ll be right back to normal.”

_Whatever normal is supposed to be for us_ , Cas thinks as he stares down at the books.

He doesn’t like this idea what-so-ever. If there are angels tracking him, it would be easier to keep moving. They’re not new to doing that. It just doesn’t make sense to stay in one place, where they are vulnerable. He doesn’t say any of this out loud. “Just a few days.”

Dean smiles, knowing that Cas won’t fight him on this. “Just a few days.”

*

It starts out as _just a few days_.

Then, it turns into _just a few more days to make sure_.

A little after that, it’s _let me make sure I’ve completely lost them_.

_Hang in there_.

And then nothing at all. Days and days pass without the two of them seeing each other. There’s always two meals a day,  in bags that are starting to pile in the corner of the basement. With no windows and no phone, the only way Cas is aware of time passing is by the meals he eats and the boredom that eats away at his conscience.

Somewhere around week two or three, he started drawing lines in the dust on the wall across from his bed. He’s getting dangerously close to a hundred, and a great deal more than half of those marks have been since the last time he has seen Dean in person.

It’s on the one-hundred-third or fourth day, because Castiel can’t remember if he made a mark yesterday or not, that Dean finally tracks downstairs, several bags in hand. Usually, Cas would be asleep, but he isn’t aware if it’s the middle of the day or night at this point. So he watches as Dean tries to put all the paper bags and empty cups into trash bags.

When the last bag is filled and Dean starts to walk away, Castiel speaks up. “Dean?”

Dean stills, his whole body tense. He almost looks like he’s getting ready for a fight. “What’s up man?”

So casual. Always so casual. And Castiel finds that he absolutely loathes it. Still, his voice remains calm. “When can I go back upstairs?”

Dean heaves a sigh. “I’m working on it, man. Just sit tight.”

Cas turns around to face the wall without another word. He doesn’t even know why he bothered to ask. This is what he has been reduced to, just a nothing that is sitting rotting away in a basement where no one will find him. He can’t even call for help.

Dean climbs the stairs, several bags in his arms the distinct sound of a door locking punctuating the silence.

*

Later that day (or night) Dean comes in with meal in hand instead of leaving it at the foot of the door as usual. There’s a look in his eyes, a dangerous one that Cas can still see in the darkness of the basement. Still, he doesn’t move from his spot. He’s not sure if it’s fear or sadness that is keeping him firmly underneath the covers.

“Cas.” The voice Cas hears is one he has only heard a handful of times and he doesn’t like it, so he stays underneath the blanket and stares at the wall, pretending Dean isn’t here at all. However, he flinches when a hand comes down to his face. It’s not from the cold or the sudden presence of another human being, something he hasn’t felt in over a hundred days, but the fact that it’s wet.

This close to his face, he can smell the metallic scent of blood that clings to Dean’s hand and the rest of his body.

Even though Cas doesn’t have the energy nor the want to do any of this, it’s the stench of blood that makes him pull the covers off of himself. Because he knows that Dean will do what he wants whether he wants to participate or not. It’s easier to let it happen.

So it does.

It’s quick, not nearly as painless as he would have hoped, but it’s mostly over rather quickly.

When Dean finally leaves, leaving the smell of blood and anger lingering in the air, Cas cries for the first time. He cries for the pitiful mess that is this basement. He cries for what he has let happen. He cries for what he has allowed himself become. But, most of all, he cries for the man that is long gone.

Dean Winchester is no longer The Righteous Man.

 


	6. V

**V.**

_one millennia. two millennnia. maybe five or ten. time is_   
_irrelevant and i have grown tired. so tired. how much longer must_   
_i stand by as the world burns black at your feet?_

-

Time continues like this. With Castiel slowly falling apart and losing himself. Probably paying a penance he should have completed long ago or paying the consequences from all the things he has allowed to happen.

Some days are better than others, only because Dean ignores him. On these days, Cas takes time to just think about his time before he even pulled the Righteous Man out of a hell. A time where it was all orders and it was easy. Or he will re-read the books he has next to his bed even though he knows them by memory at this point. Sometimes Dean pretends Castiel is nothing but some other thing that needs to be taken care of around the house. The only reason he knows that is because there are days where Dean invites him upstairs for a day or so. It never bodes well for Castiel.

It’s cleaner up there, with a nicer bed and a couple of personal things strewn about. Besides that, it’s still the broken down old house that they came across over a year ago. And, despite the small but great changes that Dean has done to his end of the house, Castiel hates the sight of that room more than anything. Because, on the days that he gets invited up, it just means that he has to endure whatever mood that Dean is dealing with. It’s easier when he comes down into Cas’ area, when he does what he wants and then leaves.

Most of the time, Cas is left to deal with Dean for hours on end when all he wants to do is crawl back into his dirty bed and sleep until the end of time. It’s a kind of darkness that he remembers would dance at the edges of his mind the first time he truly fell, when Metatron stole his grace and he was left to deal with true human emotions with no one in the world to help him with the exception of his friendly boss Nora.

It’s in the time that Castiel spends in Dean’s room that he quickly finds out the person that he has become. There is so little of the person he used to be before the mark that he starts to wonder whether he should be calling him Dean anymore. He’s rough at times where Dean used to be as gentle as possible. He’s loud in a way that is almost painful. And he’s rough, always so rough, without caring if there are bruises left on Castiel’s skin after every time that they are together.

Cas isn’t sure why he keeps letting this happen. Maybe because, deep down inside, he knows it will all get worse if he even thinks about refusing. But more, he thinks, because he has no one to turn to if things were to go south.

Sam is someone that comes to mind frequently in these days. Sam who only wanted to help him. But Cas didn’t listen, too blinded by his love. Always that undying love that he comes back to. A love that has made him bitter and fragile and dead.

He doesn’t want to do this anymore. But, where else is he supposed to go?

*

It’s one of those days, where things could be better, but they are not as bad as they could be. Dean, by some miracle, has not wanted to do anything with Castiel, just asked him to lay in bed together. Which is weird, but nice. There are no expectations that Cas can sense from Dean and he hopes that it stays that way for the entire time that Dean will have him in his room.

Dean, on the other hand, is laying very casually next to him, an arm thrown over his eyes, wearing nothing but a pair of old boxers. If it weren’t for all the scars that he’s gathered since they first moved here, Cas could almost imagine that this was the beginning all over again.

“So I was gone for a couple of days, if you didn’t notice.”

How could he have possibly noticed when Cas has been locked in that God forsaken basement since before he can even remember? Now that he thinks about it, Cas hasn’t seen sunlight since the first day that he was put down there. Maybe that’s why his skin is so pasty these days.

“Where did you go?” He tries to keep the conversation light, not wanting to go into any dark territory because he can already feel the air getting thick with something evil. It’s not the usual, like the things Dean usually asks him to do. But it feels the same and causes goose bumps to rise on Cas’ exposed skin.

“Was in Detroit. Wanted to explore the city. Ran into some people we know.” Dean smiles at that, something sinister that makes Cas’ skin crawl.

Cas knows what happens to people that Dean ‘runs into’. And whether Cas really did know them or not, he hopes that whatever death met them was as quick as possible.

Unlikely, really. But he can hope.

“I brought you something of a souvenir.” This makes Cas stop short. As far as he was aware, Dean only thinks of him when it comes to remembering to bring extra food or when he wants to satisfy his ridiculous sexual thirsts. But to think to bring him something from wherever he went? There has to be some ulterior motive. Still, knowing that it can’t be anything good, Cas’ heart jumps in excitement when Dean reaches into the bedside table to pull something out of the small drawer.

It turns out to be a newspaper.

And of course, of course! Why did Cas even let himself, for a single second, think that Dean was actually going to do something nice for him like bring him a present?

He takes the newspaper from Dean’s hands and stares at it before he truly understands what he’s looking at. The first thing to catch his attention is the date in the corner: **_September 18, 2015_**. He hasn’t exactly been keeping track of time recently but he has truly let everything go around him if it’s been a over a year since they’ve gotten to the house. And then, well then Castiel reads the head line.

**Deadly Forces Hit Detroit**

_In what many meteorologists are saying was a combination of sudden_  
natural disasters in coincidence with many unfortunate accidents, Detroit,  
MI is officially in a state of emergency. Lightning storms led to power  
outages and fires which left the locals with no warning for the 8.4  
earthquake that hit at 2:17am this past Tuesday morning. There is an  
estimated death toll of 200 thousand and counting.  
However, coroners are confused as many of the bodies that are  
coming into the morgues are showing signs of stabbings, leading  
local police to believe that criminals are taking advantage of the  
chaos to commit crimes.  
Rumors are flying around about two individuals who, some  
claim, are the cause of many of the deaths. “These two guys  
had guns and knives on them,” says Bertha, one of the survivors  
of the destruction of Detroit. “They were threatening each other  
and yelling nonsense no one could understand. Then there was  
this bright light and, next thing I know, I woke up in the hospital.”

_Officer Lepis, who narrowly escaped the biggest fire in downtown,_

_tells us, “I recognize those two men from the man hunt a few years  
ago. This all seems too much to be coincidence.” **(cont. 5E)**_

 

Castiel sits up half way through the article, uncomprehending of the article. He reads the first part of it two or three times before he focuses in on the picture. It’s the skyline of Detroit, or what is left of it. The whole city seems to be leveled out and he is struggling to breathe.

Cas knows the meaning of Detroit. He knows what the city means for the history that was never meant to happen. But that was supposed to be Lucifer. Not Dean.

Then again. No one said it _had_ to be Lucifer.

Cas feels like he’s going to be sick.

He turns to Dean, who has mimicked his position on the bed. He’s still smiling, sinister and murderous. Something is so utterly broken inside of Dean, that it snaps what little strength Cas has back into place.

He lets the newspaper drop to the floor and puts his hands on Dean’s shoulders. There’s fear laced in his muscles, because he knows he’s not allowed to touch Dean unless he initiates something. But this isn’t about the two of them or even about what little humanity is left between the two of them. They’re broken and Cas can’t fix either of them, but he can try to fix the world that he left to burn.

“Dean, it doesn’t have to be like this. We can fix this. It doesn’t matter what you’ve done before or even what you’re showing me. You can always redeem yourself and I can help you. Dean, let me fix this, please.”

He doesn’t even push Cas’ hands off of him to give him the dignity of rejection. Dean just laughs, loud and boastful. Like he’s enjoying the suffering and the pain. Like he’s a monster.

“It’s not broken.” What a cruel way to repeat the words he had thrown at him all those years ago. “Sam was there too. Thought you might want to know.”

Cas jumps out of bed and goes to the basement willingly, for the first time. Inside of the small bathroom that is all his, the contents of his stomach empty.

This is truly the end, in a way that none of the angels had once predicted. Because there is good and there is evil and it’s just like the vision that Zachariah had once showed Dean but so much different at the same time. But it’s all the same. Because the story will always be the same.

Dean is a monster and that is his fault.

Sam is probably dead and that is his fault.

The world is falling apart at the hands of Dean and that is his fault as well.

He should have listened from the very beginning, but he didn’t allow himself to.

And that’s it, that’s the end of it. It is not that Castiel has let himself become close to nothing, it’s not even that Dean seems to be evil beyond repair. It’s his intrinsic need to fix the world if it needs fixing that makes up his mind. He is going to have to finish the task that Sam had put upon him all that time ago. Not for him, not even for Sam anymore, but for the rest of the innocent people left on this planet. Because there are still people out there untouched by evil and untouched by Dean, and Castiel wants to keep it that way.

Killing Dean seems like an impossible task and Cas has no idea how to even start about it. His tools are very limited and he only has one chance every couple of weeks or so to even do anything about it. And maybe he won’t be able to succeed in the end. He might just die trying to end Dean, but he will die trying. Perhaps, that’s what he deserves, to fully give himself over for the battle against evil. In the end, it turns out that his greatest weakness was evil, as it seems.

He crawls back into bed, the stench of vomit still lingering on him, but he can’t even bother getting himself clean. The covers are itchy as always and he hides away from the world and begins to plan.

Soon, Castiel hopes that this world no longer has Dean Winchester in it.


	7. VI

**VI.**

_here's to the brother you have forgotten. here's to the screams_   
_i can still hear at night. here's to you._

-

It takes many explorations of Dean’s room before Castiel has a solid plan in mind. The first time he’s up there after making his decision, he finds out that the first blade is always underneath Dean’s bed, conveniently within arm’s reach. The second time, by pure coincidence, Castiel finds that the kitchen is actually fully stocked with tons of cooking materials, which includes large knifes. By the sixth time, Cas has the routine down to a t.

While the actual sex is never the same, the routine follows a repetitive and boring schedule, which only gives Castiel more the advantage. And then he is ready, theoretically speaking. It takes less than a month to get everything together, but longer for Castiel to gather his bravery; to understand that this is finally it and he has to end it once and for all.

*

Cas doesn’t know this, but it’s Christmas Eve; Thursday. He’s freezing because the blanket has become too thin over the time it has spent down here. He isn’t sure if his toes have fallen off or he has just lost feeling of his lesser extremities.

 Not truly asleep, but instead, lingering over a semi-awake state is when a warm hand gently grabs his forearm; Dean. Oh, of course. He smiles, because he knows this is it. Even though he is falling apart and fragile, he knows that this will all end soon.

When they get up to the bedroom, Cas realize this is going to be one of the more gentle sessions. Only because there are no ropes or knives tonight. For that, he is grateful.

His vision begins to flash in dizziness and it’s probably because he has refused to eat over the last couple of days, trying to save what little energy is left in his body for the final task. Dean has him laying on the bed from one second to the next, lips to his neck.

Cas distracts himself by thinking about how, after all this time, Dean would still come to him. Even after he looks worse than he did in purgatory and even after is as more fragile than a child. Dean still chose him, in his own way. It makes him smile.

“Whatcha grinning at, hmmm?”

And for just this one last time, Cas is going to pretend that this is old Dean. That the man over him has done nothing wrong in the world. He is going to grant himself one last minute of happiness. “Just you Dean. Only you.”

The hunter straddles his lap and removes his shirt and his own as well. He then moves down to tease all over Cas’ chest with lips, only adding teeth when Cas arches into it. “You’ve always stuck around, haven’t you? After all this time. You must really like me.”

Cas, out of his own volition, grabs Deans face and brings him up into a heated kiss. “I have always loved you. From the very beginning, until the very end. And I will always love you no matter what.”

Dean stops short at that, not expecting Cas’ confession. It’s not that he has never said it before, he just never voiced it as clearly as now. And despite everything, the destruction of both his loved ones, of him, and of himself, Castiel will always love Dean Winchester.

After that Dean doesn’t say much, opting more to say what he needs to say through his actions. He slowly strips the both of them of all of their remaining clothing until there is nothing separating them. Cas’ skin is heated in a way it hasn’t been in a long time and is surprised to find that he truly wants to experience this. He is right there, in those final moments with Dean. And maybe it’s the emotionality of the situation or just Cas’ intense stare that is getting the whole mood going, but Dean kind of feels it too. They are so in sync with each other just like the very first time they slept together.

Briefly, Cas thinks, that this might be the first time they’ve truly made love.

Dean reaches over into the bedside table and grabs the lube, which is new to Castiel. They had rarely used that, mostly relying on spit and sweat to easy to process up.

He waits for the familiar feel of cold fingers to reach between his legs and is surprised to find Dean moaning over him. He opens his eyes and is met with quite a sight. Dean Winchester, a man who became a demon, foretold Righteous Man, is fingering himself open right above Castiel. All the blood in his system heads south to his cock and there is no stopping him now. He is forgetting everything this was meant to be and is falling apart.

It was always him opening up for Dean, but tonight, he chose to do it to himself. And maybe once, he had dreamed of having this kind of power, of being the one to be able to dominate the situation, but never had he thought it would happen for real.

Cas starts running his hands up Dean’s hips and into his chest and back, in awe of the beauty that is in front of him. Because Castiel can acknowledge the terrible things that Dean has done but also knows that this human in front of him is a burst of awe that was never meant to be his to begin with.

Soon, Dean is done with the show, unaware that he was giving one to begin with, too busy trying to prepare himself. He pulls his fingers out, his entire hand dripping wet with lube and scoots forward until he is right over Castiel’s erect dick. Slowly, like the world is coming to a stop, Dean sinks down until he can go down no further. Cas, for the life of him, tries to hold in every sound, he does, but he groans through the entire thing like all the energy is being sucked right out of him.

“Give me all you got, baby.”

It’s probably the nickname or how feisty Dean seems after the moaning he was just doing a couple of seconds beforehand, but Castiel gathers what little energy he has left and sits up, grabbing Dean around the waist and thrusting into him with all the might he can.

The crude sound of skin slapping onto skin is what fills the room and Cas doesn’t even have it in him to try to moan and move at the same time. Dean, on the other hand is being the nosiest he has ever been. He moans Castiel’s name, long and languid as if it’s the only thing he knows how to say. Dean’s head is thrown back in ecstasy and Cas latches onto the exposed neck, marking Dean for one last time.

This is their moment and Cas will live in this moment for as long as he lives.

Soon, far too soon, Dean cums and Cas follows soon after. For a moment more, they sit together, trying to catch their breath.

Dean pulls off slowly, trying to not hurt himself and lies on the bed, throwing both arms over his face, a smile visible right underneath his forearms.

Cas is still breathing hard, unable to fully comprehend the amazing sex he just had, as if the universe were mocking him. Still, no matter what happened just a few minutes ago, he has to do what he has to do.

He doesn’t let himself think about it too much, just dives for the ground and yanks the first blade out of its case. By the time Dean has any idea of what Cas is doing, the ex-angel is already over him, a mockery of the position they were in earlier.

There’s a split second, where the both of them share eye contact and they both know what is about to happen. Dean willing Cas not to do it and Cas trying to make himself do it.

And then he does.

There’s a flash of something red that burns through all of Dean’s veins, alighting his body from the inside. And then, Dean looks at Cas again.

“I want you to know, that you and me, Cas?” Dean is gasping, a trail of blood falling from the corner of his mouth.  “That was real. That was me. Don’t forget that.”

And then breath no longer is left inside of Dean Winchester.


	8. VII

**VII.**

_finally_

_-_

Castiel stares down at his bloody hands, an overwhelming sense to vomit coming over him, his hands trembling in the aftermath. Maybe it was that he over exerted himself after being locked away for so long. Or it’s the fear that is still thudding through his veins. The point is that he did it. He really did it.

Instead of the relief he had expected, there’s dread pooling at his feet, the same way that the blood is. There’s just so much blood.

Everything starts to blur, the world wobbling from side to side. The walls are caving in from all directions, making the room too small for all of this. Cas is breathing, he knows, because he’s taking huge gulping gasps that are expanding his lungs to near full capacity, but there _isn’t enough air in this room_. It’s like chocking but not being able to do anything about it. This body needs to breathe but he can’t. He just can’t. On top of that, this feeble human heart is beating harsh and rapid against his fragile chest, a frantic baby bird trying to escape this dangerous place but entrapped by the cage that are his ribs.

It’s not until the tears and the blood begin to mix together that Castiel realizes that he’s having an anxiety attack.

How about that?

It takes several minutes of focusing on even breaths before he is able to stand up and properly take everything in.

He killed the demon. He actually did it and the world is better for it. What now? What is he to do of himself? With Sam dead and no chance of bringing Dean back to what he used to be, what is Castiel to do?

It’s these and a thousand other questions that are rushing through his brain and he can’t even really begin to think of the answer to one when another arises. Instead, he tries to focus on the right now, narrowing his thought process to this very moment.

The more he tries to think, the more he realizes it doesn’t help much because all he can think about is lying down and sleeping for an indefinite amount of time. Somewhere warm and safe, away from here.

Far away.

“Breathe. In and out. You are okay.” Cas has to talk to himself out loud. He’s not sure if he’s trying to fill the quiet room with something more than the echoes of the demon’s words or truly trying to ensure that he take the breaths he needs.

“Hunter’s funeral.” All thoughts halt at that. Dean deserves that. He does. While that body hasn’t been inhabited by the old Dean in nearly two years, it was still Dean’s body. He deserves to go like an honorary hunter.

Castiel has very little energy left in him. Instead of going out to build a pyre out behind the house, he decides to just grab the gas container from the impala. While digging for it, he finds a few of Dean’s old mementos that the he had decided to keep as some cruel joke.

John Winchester’s journal. A picture of Mary. Another picture of him, Dean, and Sam, taken sometime during the apocalypse. Some large version of the amulet that looks like it’s made out of paper and gold paint. Cas decides to grab all of these things and take them back into the house.

In there, he lays them around Dean’s body, not paying any mind to them being soaked in blood. They’ll be gone soon enough.

Castiel’s mind begins to blur at the edges, his movements becoming mechanical. He pours the gasoline all over the bed and the surrounding area, not being careful where any of the liquid lands. When the container is empty, Cas digs in the pockets of Dean’s pants, looking for the lighter he always carries. It’s there, a small silver thing.

He opens it, revealing the flame. His hand lowers and the flame catches the edge of Dean’s flannel, quickly consuming his body and the rest of the bed. Castiel doesn’t move away, because he told Dean, once, that he had done all of this for him.

For the first time in years, Castiel prays.


	9. VIII.

**VIII.**

-


	10. ;addendum

**;addendum**

 

_So it is recorded that much of the world fell into calm after these events._  
This story will be retold in many ways and with different people, each  
_one vastly different than the other. However, the truth is here. Because_  
_the world did not end in fire or in ice, it did not end at all. It continued_  
_to turn as it will continue to turn when the next wave of evil emerges._

_There is always balance._

 

 

(the book of Winchester ends here and is renamed)

 


End file.
